


Presents are really the best part of Christmas

by RunYouCleverBoyAndRememberMe



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunYouCleverBoyAndRememberMe/pseuds/RunYouCleverBoyAndRememberMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Eponine's, Grantaire's and Enjolras' first Christmas together, and presents are abound. With two people to buy for each, some people are easier to buy (Or make) for than others!</p><p>Basically a little fic I wrote for my best friend for Christmas. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presents are really the best part of Christmas

_I hate Christmas_ Enjolras thought _full of capitalistic propaganda feeding off the poor and oppressed in the world_

“You do realise you’re thinking aloud, right?” Courfeyrac remarked “Well, it’s probably a sentence in your head, but you’ve just muttered capitalistic pigs under your breath twice now”

Enjolras scowled at him, and went back to brooding at the line of tacky gifts in front of him.

It’s Christmas eve, and he still has no gift for his boyfriend and girlfriend.

“It’s no use!” he threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “There is nothing here that either Grantaire or Éponine would want! We’re going to have to go to the next shop. Why did we even come in here?”

Courfeyrac turned an impressive shade of red and mumbled something about attractive cashiers.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “Courf, _Ferre_ works in here!”

In a voice that is entirely too casual Courfeyrac said “Oh look, there’s nothing in here, let’s go next door” and dragged his best friend out of the door.

\--

Half an hour later, they have still had no luck on the presents front, but Enjolras had managed to get his best friend to confess his huge schoolboy crush on their other mutual best friend, so he counted that as a plus.

“When he smiles, god, Enj, you have no idea and the face he makes when he talks about what he’s learning or just, I dunno something, it’s goddamm beautiful and he looks at me and I melt and ugh I can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with him every time and I don’t know how you do it Enjolras, I really don’t, what with Éponine and Grantaire, how can you stand being away from them…”

He can’t, he really can’t stand being away from them for more than a few hours at a time. He supposed it was kind of unhealthy, but he couldn’t imagine a life without his boyfriend and girlfriend. Enjolras blocked out Courfeyrac’s ramblings and thought about them. How he had ran his fingers through Éponine‘s hair as she had lain on his lap. The feeling of Grantaire against his legs as they all watched crappy Christmas movies. How Éponine had laughed when she found Grantaire tying Enjolras up with tinsel. How Grantaire had knocked over the Christmas tree as he jumped down to give Éponine a kiss. How he and Grantaire had kissed under the mistletoe until Éponine had dragged them to bed. How he still need to get presents for the pair of them. At this he mentally groaned. He had no idea. Nothing would be good enough for them. They deserved the best.

They passed a shop and Enjolras stopped in his tracks. He stared at the shop that had caught his attention before bringing out his phone and rapidly calling Jehan.

“ _Hey_!” came Jehan’s chirpy voice.

“Jehan” Enjolras says seriously “Does Grantaire still like that film he tried to watch with me, you and Ép a few months back, but we all fell asleep?”

He can practically hear Jehan’s cat like grin across the phone line.

“ _Yeah_ ” he said “ _Why?”_

\--

Éponine knew exactly what she wanted. The problem was finding it. She knew it was here, and seen in weeks ago when she had come in here with Combeferre. Here, in the dusty corners of this cramped, musty bookshop that looked like a mythical library of old. Éponine had always regretted never having enough time to read, but now, as she got her life together, she did. She especially liked when Grantaire read to her. Enjolras preferred factual books, but like Éponine, Grantaire was a lover of fantasy and she had spent many lazy days in his lap, listening to him read the Lord of the Rings. Recently, Enjolras had started to creep into these sessions, and many and evening was spent listening to Grantaire’s deep baritone reading about Bilbo and Frodo.

She knew those dam books were in this shop.

_There!_

It was a first edition of _the Lord of the Rings_ , a very expensive, limited first edition that for some reason was going for a fraction of its true value in this dusty old shop. And there, displayed triumphantly next to it, was _The French Revolution: A History_ , first published 1837, and another first edition copy. She carefully pulled the two books out of the shelf, shaking dust off of them. They really were exquisite, and she really couldn’t wait for the look on her boys faces when she gave them the gifts.

Despite going for a song, the books were still quite expensive, and she had scrimped and saved enough money to buy both these and a present for Gavroche too.

She reverently carries the books over to the counter, and grinned all the while as the man behind the counter packaged them carefully and handed them back to her.

Combeferre must influence her more than she realised, if she was buying _books_ for presents. But then, she reflects, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Anyway, the second part of her present to her boyfriends is sitting at the bottom of their wardrobe.

\--

Grantaire is just about ready to give up. If it was any other project, he would have given up ages ago. But he can’t, because he is already on his fourth attempt, and he simply does not have enough money to redo it again. Is there any part of the painting in front of him that is saveable?

Grantaire is covered in paint, and so is the floor of the spare room in their flat he has claimed as his studio. The painting, he reflects isn’t so bad. It dotted with colour, bright colours bursting out from every aspect, blurring the background, but making it come alive. There is a railing, from their favourite meeting spot in the city. To anyone else, it is random, but to Éponine and Enjolras, Grantaire knows they will recognise it as the place they meet every day for lunch. The figures in the painting have their backs to the viewer, simply because if h tried to draw their faces, there would be no way he could capture their beauty in art. So he settles for their lean figures. His fingers have traced the contours of their bodies so often; he can draw them from memory. His own body is not so well done, but that isn’t the point. The point is Éponine and Enjolras. His moon and his sun.

Éponine’s figure is illuminated by silver, while light shining brightly, her almost white curly hair seeming to glow gently. She is between her two boys, lighting them up. Next to her, proud and tall, is Enjolras, painted in red and gold, burning brightly. Grantaire is on Éponine’s other side, and he is painted in blacks and greys, the only parts of him being lit are those on which his lovers light falls.

It’s good, but it’s not good enough. It will never be good enough. Nothing will ever be good enough for these people, who for some reason still keep him around.

Grantaire resists the urge to rip the canvas in half and gets up.

It’s Christmas Eve. It will have to do.

\--

Christmas Day dawns bright and early. Enjolras wakes to Éponine curled into his chest like a cat, and with his head on Grantaire’s stomach. Despite not wanting to wake them, he knows that the pair of them will want to make the most of the day. And anyway, he can’t wait to give them his presents.

“Hey sleepyheads” he murmurs softly, kissing them both in the forehead. “It’s Christmas”

Éponine’s eyes snap open immediately, making him question whether she was really asleep at all, and together they wake Grantaire. He’s always been a heavy sleeper.

“Presents in bed or in the living room?” Enjolras asks.

“Well, mine are in here, so I might as well give them to you here” Éponine gets out of bed and heads to the wardrobe, both of her boy’s eyes following her movement.

She brings out three carefully wrapped presents, but only hands two to them.

“This one is for later” she explains at Grantaire’s quizzical look. “Otherwise we might not leave this room, and then we will miss Christmas”

Enjolras could kill her for being such a tease, but he trusts Éponine’s judgement, so turns his attention to his present.

With Grantaire, he slowly unwraps it. His mouth drops open when he sees what is inside. Judging by Grantaire’s “oh my fucking god” he has got something similar.

Enjolras cannot believe he is actually holding this.

“Éponine… “He whispers “How…”

“Ask no questions, and you’ll be told no lies” she grins at them

Neither of them speak, and Éponine starts to worry.

“Don’t you like them?” she asks, disappointment creeping into her voice unbidden.

“Éponine” Grantaire says very seriously “I don’t like it. I love it”

“I second that!” Enjolras leaps forward and kisses her hard. She barely has time to breathe before Grantaire is doing the same.

“Wow, this makes my gift look even more shit” he says as he breaks the kiss.

“Shut up” Éponine says “Whatever you got us is bound to be wonderful. It’s from you after all”

They all move simultaneously, heading for the front room, and the Christmas tree. Enjolras and Grantaire place their books very reverently on the chest of draws as they leave.

For a second, they stand in the doorway, staring at the presents and the tree, at their home which they have somehow managed to find, amongst all the pain and hardship. Then they break into a run, because no one should be an adult on Christmas. The three of them end up in the floor, on top of each other, shaking with breathless laughter.

“Ok R, seeing as you brought it up, you have to give us your presents next” Éponine says, the smile on her face beautiful.

Grantaire groans, but he reaches behind the tree and pulls out a huge, badly wrapped canvas.

Éponine and Enjolras carefully unwrap it, very aware of the fact that Grantaire is behind them, obviously waiting for their reaction.

It is one of the most beautiful things Enjolras has ever seen. Both he and Éponine reach out to gently touch the dried paint, Enjolras stroking what is the back of Éponine’s head.

“What’s it called?” Enjolras asks, throat dry. “All great paintings should have a name”

Grantaire clears his throat before speaking “My Sun and Stars” he says quietly.

Éponine gives a little sob, and immediately both of her boy’s arms are around her.

“Oh god, don’t cry Éponine, I’m sorry, is it too much?” Grantaire is rambling, stroking her face, and Enjolras hold her. She wipes the tears with a back of her hand.

“No, no it’s perfect, it’s so beautiful, R I love it, but…” she takes a deep breath “Only you would take a quote from game of thrones and make it all soppy and romantic”

“To be fair, it is quite a romantic quote” Enjolras says, before kissing Éponine “Moon of my life”

Then he pulls Grantaire down into a kiss. Éponine hugs them.

“My boys…”

Then she abruptly pulls away “Now Enjolras has to give us his presents!”

“Noooo!” Enjolras protests, but he pulls out the two parcels from under the tree anyway.

“They aren’t as good as yours, I’m afraid.” He apologises “I… well, Jehan helped.”

They both unwrap their presents, Enjolras watching on, nervously biting his lip.

“Oh my fucking god” Grantaire is the first to speak. He pulls out the full sized Winter Soldier costume that Enjolras had seen in the shop, and gapes at it.

“That’s exactly how it was in the film” Enjolras says “or at least that’s what the shopkeeper told me. It comes with all his props as well, so consider it an apology for falling asleep during the film”

“Your forgiven” Grantaire says, distracted, as he runs his hands over the clothes.

Enjolras turns to Éponine. “You haven’t said anything”

Éponine is staring at the dress in her hands. Enjolras knows she recognises it; every time Cersei wore it on Game of Thrones, Éponine shouted “That’s it! The dress of awesomeness!”

Dark red, and intricately decorated with gold thread, it was (according the shopkeeper) handmade, as identical to the dress on the show that was possible without it being the actual one. The breastplate was also decorated, and was made out of light weight amour. Enjolras had stolen Éponine’s measurements off Muischetta and had it made to the precise centimetre. It would be a perfect fit, as would Grantaire’s.

“Don’t you like it?” he asks

She turn to him and oh no, she’s tearing up again “I love it”

“There’s a sword in there too, and Grantaire I know he doesn’t use a sword, but I got you one too, but now if anyone annoys you, you can stab them-“

He is cut off by both of them enveloping him in yet another hug.

“We shouldn’t be crying, its Christmas” Éponine sniffles into his shoulder

“I love you both so much” Grantaire says, kissing them one after the other on the top of the head.

“I love you too” Éponine says

“I love you” Enjolras breaks the hug and they all take a moment to wipe their eyes and get a bit more composed.

“Ok, who wants pancakes?” Grantaire asks, helping Éponine to her feet.

“ME!” Éponine shouts and runs to the kitchen, he boys following after her.

It really did look like the beginning of the best Christmas ever.


End file.
